


Silk

by liripip



Series: Silk, spice and everything nice [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pegging, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liripip/pseuds/liripip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt at the kink meme, reading "Isabela and Hawke are sex buddies. She's the first woman he's actually enjoyed being with but yearns for Anders. Hawke has never been with a man and Isabela offers to *take him* to give him an idea on what he will experience with Anders.</p><p>Bonus: Anders is spying on them and is shocked and happy Hawke feels that way and is both touched & aroused as he watches Isabela take him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk

Contrary to popular belief, Isabela did not actually reside in the taproom of The Hanged Man. She had a room on the second floor of the same establishment, if only to have a place to stash her jewelry and her temporary lovers.

It was in this room Anders now found himself, in the process of being bodily shoved into Isabela's wardrobe. It wasn't a roomy thing, but then, of course, Isabela didn't wear much clothes, so there was room enough for him. Barely. He tried to voice another protest – Maker, the woman was _strong_ – but Isabela unceremoniously slapped her palm over his mouth.

“Shut _up _,” she hissed in his ear, “he'll be here any moment.”__

 _“Who will?” A lacy... something, probably grounds for arrest for public indecency if worn outside, fluttered down from above to land on his shoulder._

 _“You'll see. Now, stay in here and be _quiet_ , and I swear to you, if you regret watching this I'll give you my share of Hawke's money for the rest of the year.”_

That, Anders had to admit, was a tempting offer. Hawke made a lot of cash adventuring, and split it evenly amongst them. With Isabela's share added to his own... Well, running a free clinic was hardly _free_ , now was it?

The wardrobe smelled of spices and perfume, the kind that mixed perfectly with fresh sweat and warm skin and made the entire world smell like sex.

“And if I don't?”

“Mmm, then I get to watch once or twice.” She shut the door in his face.

Well, that was certainly cryptic.

Barely a minute had passed before the door opened and Hawke stepped in. Isabela quickly sauntered over, pulled the door closed behind him and flattened Hawke against it with her body, one thigh pressed flush against his groin. Hawke groaned, low in his throat, obligingly spreading his legs.

Oh. Oh, Isabela was going to _pay_ for this.

****

“Mmmm...” Isabela murmured against his lips, one hand fisting in the thick hair at the back of his neck to pull his head backwards, exposing his throat. “Did I ever tell you I slept with Anders?” she said, softly against the pulse point to the side of his neck.

Hawke twitched, unsure what had brought this particular subject up.

“You did. Repeatedly.” He kept most of his annoyance out of his voice. Maker, but this was silly, and he didn't like the bright flare of jealousy in his gut. He should never have admitted to his feelings for the man. It just felt pointless keeping anything from Isabela, when she so obviously knew anyway.

Isabela caught the tone of his voice and laughed at him.

“Oh, don't be jealous, sweetheart, it was before you knew either of us. I just thought you might be curious about him, is all.” She shifted, lips lifting to brush the side of his ear. “He was an excellent lay, you know.”

Hawke swallowed thickly. It was wrong to want to know, somehow, but when had things like that ever stopped him before? Curses.

“Tell me.”

 

****

When Anders was little, he'd considered his fair skin and his tendency to blush an affront to all that was right and holy and properly suave, which he'd desperately wished to be. Suave, that is. Right and holy had seemed like too much of a bother until Justice came into his life. Then, when he was slightly older, he'd realized that he was truly blessed: With wide, innocent brown eyes – he didn't wish they were blue, blue was overdone – soft, honey-colored hair and a delicate pink blush that came to his cheeks as easy as his winning smile or heart-wrenching pout, he had the perfect toolkit to get away with _anything_. He'd told Karl as much, lounging in the enchanter's bed late one evening after a bout of particularly delicious depravity, and the older man had only laughed fondly at him. Then again, Karl was fucking an apprentice less than half his age, right under the Templar's noses, and keeping said apprentice in his private room well after curfew, so maybe Karl was the one with supernatural get away with anything powers.

A stab of pain, at the memory of that particular line of thought. No, apparently he didn't. Anders felt Justice stirring inside him, the memory of Karl's empty eyes always enough to wake the spirit. No, not now. Anders pushed him back into the back of his mind, focusing instead on more immediate things. Like the heat burning across the bridge of his nose and his smallclothes steadily growing tighter as Isabela slowly peeled off layer after layer of Hawke's clothing while she talked. About him.

Maker, Hawke was lost in a daze of lust thinking about _him_.

Maybe he'd go easy on Isabela, just this once. Keep his witty commentary to a minimum the next time she showed up at the clinic with an embarrassing rash.

****

“He was different back then.” Isabela let go her grip on his hair and stepped away, gracefully pulling her tunic over her head. She was beautiful, it couldn't be denied. There had been a time not so long ago when he'd wondered if he'd ever really liked women at all. Just... taken it for granted that he was supposed to. Oh, he wasn't a virgin, not by far. He'd gone through the motions with more than one lovely lady in his days, much to Carver's annoyance, but for all that the sex was pleasant, sure, he wasn't in any way repulsed by it, it had never seemed to be all that it was chalked up to be. “Less self-righteous. More _fun_. Before that spirit of his, I suppose.” Isabela sighed, stretching, before grinning wickedly over her shoulder as she slid her smallclothes down her hips. Garret's cock throbbed at the sight. She was wearing nothing except for her heavy golden jewelry and her high boots, utterly unashamed and glorious in her nakedness.

Hawke cleared his throat, stepping away from the door.

“Did he look the same?”

“Why don't you come over here and put your mouth to good use while I tell you about him?” She sat down on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide, feet planted firmly on the floorboards. Garret sank to his knees between her's, bending to tongue her cunt. “Yes, that's good, that's good... Mm, he looked better, back then. He used to wear these wonderful robes, all silk and soft, soft fur. Just begging to be petted. You could run your hands over his legs forever and it was smooth as water, I swear.”

Garret grunted, laving the flat of his tongue over her nub before sucking it between his lips. Isabela shuddered.

“Oh, and gold. He liked the shinies, back then. Had a ring in his ear and as many arm-rings as he could carry. Very nice arms, it's a shame he covers them up these days. Mmmh, just like that, keep going... He had longer hair, too. Very nice hair, very soft. Heh, did you know I met him in a brothel?”

“Yeah?” mumbled Garret, tip of his tongue rubbing teasingly over that most sensitive part of her.

“I tried to hire him.”

Garret choked back a snort of laughter.

“That was _you_?”

Isabela blinked at him with utterly fake innocence.

“I just assumed he worked there! You should have seen him. Half the whores were more modest. Those robes I was telling you about? They were open in the chest, kind of like this?” She gestured at the side of her breasts in a way that explained absolutely nothing. “I swear, you could almost see his nipples. You know, _almost_ seeing nipples is so much more alluring than just a bare chest.”

Garret nodded, not really having an opinion one way or another but just wanting her to go on.

“And he did work there, he just didn't work the floor. Got free board in exchange for healing their various maladies, I think. Though if gossip's anything to go by he got a lot more than food and shelter from some of those girls.”

“Did you see him naked?” Garret's voice was hoarse. He didn't care. One of the best things about sleeping with Isabela was the way she could somehow banish shame from their encounters.

“Oh, you _are_ smitten, aren't you?” She patted his hair affectionately before pushing his face back against her crotch. “Yes I did, sweetie. Many times. This was all before he discovered modesty.” She smiled at the memory, running her fingernails down Hawke's spine. “A shame, that. He used to shave, you know? Not his face, that was always kinda scruffy. His chest and his crotch. Very smooth. Fun to lick. He'll probably let you try, if you ask nicely.

Garret groaned then, mouth open against her, fist closing tightly about his cock.  
“Please.” He was breathless.

“Are you fantasizing about him, sweetling? It's all right, so am I. Shall I tell you more?”

“He used to rub himself with these oils, oils with herbs and flowers and spices in them. I guess it was a healer thing. Smelled lovely, at any rate. A drop behind each ear,” her fingertip brushed the sensitive skin behind Hawke's, “one in the dip between the collarbones...” Fleeting touch, trailing down the side of his neck to dab at the hollow of his throat. She leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “One right below his cock so you could only taste it by taking him all the way down your throat and _licking_.”

Garret shivered. Maker, but she was about to get him off using only the images her voice called forth in his mind.

“Mmm, you'd like that, wouldn't you? His cock, hot and hard and heavy, just barely shy of too deep in your throat?”

He nodded, eyes closed tightly, imagination running wild.

“Yes, let's see... In his clinic, maybe. You on your knees in the dirt, his fingers clenching in your hair. It hurts a little, but it's so worth it. Can you taste him? Can you feel his cock throbbing as he comes in your mouth? Feel it for me, Hawke.” Her fingers tugged at his hair as she rubbed her cunt over his face. “It's late at night, you have the place to yourselves... Use your fingers... Oh, keep doing that...” She licked her lips, canting her hips rhythmically against his fingers inside her. “Mm, there's a cot just a step away. He's all loose and relaxed and happy now, he'd do anything you wanted. You could just lay him down and take him, he wouldn't say no. He's done it before, he likes it like that. Is that what you want, Hawke?”

“I can't just –”

“Ssh, sweet thing, it's a fantasy. You can do whatever you want. He's hard again, ready for a new round. Amazing stamina. It's a warden thing. Do you want him to push you down on your back, his mouth against your neck, quick fingers fumbling your breeches open?”

“Yes...” He didn't resist when Isabela shoved him gently on the shoulder, just toppled bonelessly to the floor.

“Do you want him to take you? Right there, on the dirt floor, still half dressed, rutting desperately like animals in heat?”

“Maker, yes.”

“Why, you are _precious_ when you're all submissive.” She straddled his hips, sinking down on him smoothly. Hawke's breathing hitched in his throat, the muscles in his thighs bunching. “Say his name for me, sweetling.”

****

Anders swallowed with some difficulty, trying vainly to adjust himself in the too tight confines of his smallclothes without losing his balance or slamming an elbow against the thin wall. Maker, he had an impressive amount of self-restraint since Justice took up residence in his head with his aversion to all forms of selfish pleasure, but this was way, way beyond his breaking point. He wanted Hawke, wanted him like he'd never wanted anyone or anything in his life before. Loved him, as stupid as that sounded, for his poor judgment and grand gestures and the way his eyes seemed to soften sometimes when he looked at Anders. Admittedly, his eyes also softened when he looked at his huge ugly dog, so maybe the eye-softening wasn't that flattering, but it was something. Hawke cared deeply for that ugly beast. If he could find it in himself to care even half as much for Anders, that was still better than he deserved.

This though. Anders _wanted_ Hawke, and Hawke was spread out on the floor, with a beautiful woman riding him hard, and Hawke was softly chanting _his_ name. Anders thought he might die.

****

“Well,” said Isabela once she'd caught her breath. “That was fun.” Their combined fluids were leaking out of her cunt, pooling in the dip of his hipbone before sliding on towards the floor. He felt her dip a finger in the mess, bringing it to her mouth. Isabela liked fluids. Juices, she called them, the very essence of sex. She liked sex, thus she liked its juices. She wrote about them at great length in her friend fiction.

“Mmmhm.” Garret mumbled, still too sated to move.

“Did you know I love watching men with beards suck cock? There's something delightfully dirty about it.”

“Hhmm.” Garret peeled an eye open, watching Isabela suspiciously. As random as that statement seemed, she was going somewhere with this.

“Oh, yes. And you'll look lovely with a cock up your ass, I'm sure. Anders will have such _fun_ with you. Will you let me watch sometime?”

Hawke frowned, skeptic, and Isabela scoffed at him.

“You're no fun.” she said, poking him hard in the bellybutton. He squeaked indignantly.

“I still don't know what makes you think he's even interested.”

Isabela let out a long-suffering sigh, getting to her feet and reaching for a rag to clean herself off.

“You poor, sweet, ignorant little thing. Anders _adores_ you. He's probably thinking of you and wanking right at this very moment.”

Hawke snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Not like he has better things to do with his time.”

****

If only, Anders thought, shifting uncomfortably. He would be wanking, and to the Void with Justice and his disgust for the act, if only Isabela's closet wasn't so narrow that he could barely move without falling over. He'd tried vainly to free his cock, but he was wearing too many layers and he didn't dare struggle. Outside, Isabela had pulled Hawke onto her bed, and was rubbing his shoulders in a friendly fashion. Anders narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Isabela was many things, but she was _always_ self-serving.

****

“Men.” Isabela sighed fondly, reaching for a flask of oil. “You can be so _dense_.” She glanced over her shoulder at the knothole Anders was watching from, smiling wickedly. “I'm sure that if he could see you now, he'd be going absolutely _mad_ with desire.”

****

Oh. So that was her game. She was trying to drive him mad. He wasn't sure why, he didn't imagine she particularly wanted his clinic or his clothes, and those was pretty much the only things he had to his name. He'd sold all his shiny baubles to pay for passage to Kirkwall, and he didn't imagine their combined value had come anything close to what Isabela was currently wearing around her neck.

Nevertheless, madness it was. The evil woman had Hawke on his stomach, spread out on the bed, hips slightly raised, ass on perfect display for where Anders was hiding. Did she _want_ him to burst out, in a fog of helpless, stupefying lust, to fall over Hawke desperately? Maybe she did, Anders conceded, Isabela was weird like that. But Hawke on the other hand would probably feel... violated. Was exposing his innermost desires to _Isabela_ , not to him, and however much Anders wanted that kind of trust and intimacy it was something that had to be earned. Not taken. So he'd wait patiently in his closet and then he'd go get a cold bath and the next time he had an excuse to be alone with Hawke then, when Hawke was a little more in possession of his mental faculties, then he'd tell him. Or just jump him and hump his leg, whichever came first.

Isabela slid her hands lower, beginning to massage the oil into Hawke's buttocks, spreading them gently. Anders dug his nails into his palm and controlled himself.  
“Think of him,” he heard, Isabela's voice, soft and promising.

Hawke's only answer was a groan as he shifted, spreading muscular legs wider. It took all the fraying self-control Anders had not to moan aloud at the sight.

****

“You've never been with a man, have you, sweetling?”

The oil was simultaneously warm and cool against his skin, making him shiver as Isabela traced one slick finger down his spine to slip between his cheeks. He shifted so he lay more comfortably, resting his head on his crossed arms.

“No. But I think I've got the basic mechanics figured out,” he drawled lazily.

Isabela tutted sadly.

“Hawke, sweetheart, Anders is a master of his craft. Basic mechanics will still get your mind blown open.” She sounded almost sad, like his mind being blown was a regrettable inevitability.

Hawke opened an eye to look at her, one eyebrow quirking.

“I'm pretty sure healing is his craft, Isabela.”

“Sure,” Isabela said with a smirk, “That's what he says these days.”

“...please tell me you're kidding.”

“Oh no, that's really how he introduced himself back then.”

Hawke stared.

“Oh Maker.” He choked out, fighting laughter.

“Anyway, sweet thing, how about Mama Isabela giving you a rundown on what you need to know?”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

Isabela smirked, motioning to the nightstand. It was covered in shiny trinkets, flasks of scented oil, long strings of pearls scattered haphazardly around. A yellow gem of some kind flashed brilliantly when the firelight hit it. He looked over his shoulder at Isabela, lifting both eyebrows in silent question. She cursed under her breath, leaning forward to rifle through her belongings, quickly producing a large wooden fallos from the heap. It was made out of some dark exotic wood, and it was polished and lacquered so smooth it near gleamed. Hawke swallowed, arousal mixing with apprehension in his gut.

“Well?” she said, amused.

“That's... big.” Hawke said, staring. “He's not that big, is he?”

Isabela put a finger to her lips, tilting her head in thought.

“I'm sure I would have remembered if he was. I mostly remember his hands, honestly. Ah, the things that man can do with his hands...” she trailed off happily, rubbing Hawke's cheeks with her palms. “But I promise you, sweetling, you can take this. It won't hurt, Isabela knows what she's doing. Curious?”

Well, yes, he was curious. He swallowed thickly.

“Start with your fingers?” he asked, tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

Isabela laughed.

“How about we start with yours?” She licked her lips lecherously. “Have you touched yourself here, Hawke?” she murmured, pressing just the tip of an oil-slicked finger against his opening. “Have you fucked yourself and thought of him?” The pressure increased, and her finger slid in to the first knuckle. Hawke gasped, tensing, more in surprise than discomfort.

“No,” he mumbled, face pressed into Isabela's large and varied collection of pillows. “I mean...” Her finger slid deeper, crooking. Maker, this was good. “I tried, but I didn't feel much.”

Isabela pulled her fingers back, sitting up straight across his thighs.

“Pity. Would you try it again for me? I'd like to see it, and Anders will just hog you for himself once he gets his hands on you.”

Hawke nodded and rolled onto his back, wordlessly taking the oilflask as Isabela offered it.

****

Anders helplessly rubbed himself through his breeches, hand clenched over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. Hawke was spread out, fingering himself, moaning low in his throat. His well-muscled thigh blocked the view of where his fingers were slipping inside of him, but Anders still had a lot of Hawke to feast his eyes on. His head, thrown back so that the tendons in his neck stood out, his eyes squeezed closed, his mouth open, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips ever so often. His chest, slick with sweat, muscles trembling in exertion and pleasure, nipples erect and begging to be tongued, bitten. Rhythmic movement of the muscles of his lower arm as fingers stroked, probed, scissored inside him. His cock, hard again and glistening with oil, Hawke's other hand stroking it slowly.

Anders bit his knuckles and squeezed himself painfully hard.

****

“ _Good_ boy,” Isabela murmured appreciatively, deftly stringing leather thongs around the flared base of the wooden fallos and fastening it against her mound. It was close enough to her skin tone to look like she had somehow spurted a cock. “Beautiful.” Her fingertips trailed over his bent leg, tracing invisible patterns on his inner thigh. Hawke stilled, stretching out comfortably, cock jutting rebelliously in the air.

“Your turn,” he rasped. “I'm ready.”

Isabela reached between his legs, easily slipping one – two? – fingers inside him, rubbing firm and wonderful over that sensitive spot he had such difficulty reaching himself.

“Mmm, I believe you are at that.” She licked her lips, raking her eyes greedily up and down his body. “How would he take you, I wonder?” She absently took the flask, rubbing oil over the polished wood. “Hmm, it's your first time. It would be a shame to miss the look on your face the first time you get fucked. Give me a pillow.”

Hawke blinked, but reached behind himself and grabbed hold of an embroidered, perfumed travesty of yellow silk and ruffles. Something in Orlesian was artfully stitched along the borders. A prayer to the Maker, judging by the words he could make out.

“Where did you get _this_?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

“Stole it,” said Isabela noncommittally. “Hmm, when I'm finished deflowering you on it I think I'll give it to Sebastian.” She grinned wickedly. “Put it under your bum, sweet thing. Lift you up a little.”

He did as she asked, and Isabela settled between his legs, slowly guiding his knees up and apart.

“Ready?” she asked, something uncharacteristically warm and gentle in her eyes.

Hawke nodded.

“Ready.”

The first push in was slow but steady, building to a dull sting as Isabela pressed against him. He shifted in discomfort, trying to force his muscles into cooperation. Finally he felt the hard ridge of the cockhead, much more pronounced than on a flesh and blood cock, slip past that tight outer ring, and Isabela paused, letting him get used to the intrusion. He rocked himself gently back and forth, feeling the fallos slip a little bit deeper each time, until Isabela evidently got bored and pressed his knees back against his chest before sliding, gentle but firm, all the way inside him.

“Maker...” he mumbled, letting his head loll back, breathing turning into panting as Isabela changed her angle minutely, scraping the hard ridge of the head perfectly over that sensitive spot inside him.

“Good, isn't it?” she asked, swiping her thumb across the head of his cock, smearing a dollop of fluid that had gathered there. “Mmm, just look at you.” She licked her thumb. “Delicious.”

Hawke could only moan in answer, bucking his hips desperately as Isabela began to fuck him in earnest.

“Touch yourself for me, sweet thing.” She murmured, breathing barely controlled. “Isabela wants to watch you come.”

Touch himself. He could do that. Oh Maker, that felt good.

 

****

 

He'd barely even dared imagine this, because Justice got cranky at all but the vaguest sexual fantasies, and now it was happening right in front of his eyes. Fine, so in his fantasies – vague, non-explicit fantasies that focused more on post-coital cuddling and cherishing than wild fucking, because Justice wouldn't let him have the other kind – it was him that was making Hawke squirm and grind and moan, not Isabela, but Hawke was squirming and grinding and moaning _his_ name, so Anders was almost willing to let that one slide. Hawke's fingers dug into the bedspread, his hips jerking in time with Isabela's thrusts. Anders' palm rubbed over his clothed erection, unconsciously matching pace with the couple on the bed. Hawke tensed, arched off the mattress, hand working his cock at a furious pace. Anders bit his lips, committing it all to memory, hoping against hope that Justice would consider this enough proof that Anders' affections were not unwanted, would _finally_ let him jerk off in peace without screaming in the back of his mind about what an injustice it was. Then, throwing his head back and crying out, Hawke came, thighs shaking, thick spurts of come staining his stomach and chest. With a muffled curse and a hand clamped hard over his face, Anders followed suit in his breeches.

 

****

“Had fun?” Isabela asked impishly, finally letting Anders out after Hawke had left. He stumbled out, feet numb, face flushed, traitorous cock hard _again_ at the memories, Justice curiously silent in his head.

“What are you _doing_?” he asked, to his eternal shame still shaking a little bit on his voice. Isabela shrugged, full breasts jiggling enticingly. Maker, she was still naked, wandering about without a care in the world.

“Hmmm,” she purred, “I reckon I'm winning a bet.” Before Anders could ask _what_ bet, and if she somehow expected him to give her money, she was pushing a washbasin half-way full of chilly water into his arms. “Heat this for me, would you?” The magic flowed almost without conscious thought, until the water steamed. Isabela dipped a rag in it, wrung it out, rubbed it behind her neck where the sweat was already cooling. “A girl has to keep clean, in body if not in mind,” she said, wet washcloth sweeping sensuously over her breasts. “So, do you need any more encouragement?”

Anders averted his eyes on Justices urging, the spirit feeling scandalized somewhere in the back of his mind. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” he asked blankly, mind still boggling, still clueless to what game Isabela was really playing.

“I have a bet.” she intoned carefully, as if talking to a slow child. “With Varric.” She turned around, slipped her tunic over her head before continuing. “And if you and Hawke don't act on your painfully obvious little crush before the end of the month, I'll lose.” She smiled wickedly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And I think I've earned this one, don't you? So... Do I get to watch?”


End file.
